Carpenter, Chef, Chauffeur and a Cop
by emeraldislegirl
Summary: Richonne AU: The story of two strangers meeting on a tropical paradise under less than ideal conditions. Note: I don't own these characters.
1. Chapter 1

**Carpenter, Chef, Chauffeur and a Cop**

* * *

_The Carpenter and the Chef_

That night, the sight of the blood-red orange sunset foretold good weather would follow, it was an old wive's tale of course, because sometime overnight '_hurricane wrong way'_ decided to shake things up a bit.

The rain began with a plip, plop, plip, plop, the kind of sound which lends itself as the perfect white noise conducive to sleep. Sleep for me was both enemy and friend, it was hard to come by but very easy to lose. On this night, however, the rain drummed a steady staccato which made my eyelids heavy and eventually carried me off to dreamland. It was a good start to a good night or so I thought.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the Caribbean Sea, Leslie, the one they so appropriately nicknamed '_hurricane wrong way' _had changed direction yet again.

In my dream, I was somehow trapped in that advertisement on television except it was summer. I was on the beach below the house and waves were racing towards the shore. The trees had uprooted themselves and were running either after me or with me, I wasn't sure which because the waves were rolling in fast and it was not the time to stop and get philosophical. Whatever happened next would not be good.

Outdoors, Leslie was angry like storms usually are, in the wee hours of the morning, her gale-force winds battered the breadfruit tree next to the house. The noise pulled me from my sleep… then I heard the glass shattered no doubt from the bough I asked the landlord to remove after the last storm passed through and damn near gave me a heart attack. I felt the sudden change of air pressure in the house. The remnants of the cool air had been sucked out of the house and replaced by a heavy humid air. Obviously, the window covering had not been properly secured. Yet, another thing my landlord failed to do properly.

As a matter of pure reflex, my hand reached out searching blindly for the nightstand until it connects to the hard surface and my fingers walked lightly towards the aluminum device detaching it from its charger checking the time, it was a little after two in the morning. The power was out and little could be done to save the ground level, so I elected to ride the storm out from right where I was curled up in bed. I wasn't exactly keen on wading barefoot in the dark on a floor sprayed with glass and covered in water.

**...**

Later that morning, there was a noise in the distance, it took me a while to determine I was no longer dreaming. Someone was actually pounding on the door.

It was later than I had imagined, using my arm I shield my eyes from the bright light of the new day streaming through the open curtains.

The sun had risen in the wake of Leslie's rampage exposing all the destruction she left behind, but there was this stillness as I peered out the window. It was as if nature was taking a moment to recover from a wild night binge, but for the noise, at the front door, it was just still. The palm trees nearby didn't sway in the usual sea breeze they looked beaten and worn down.

Having disentangled myself from my bedsheets, I went to see just who the hell was making such a ruckus at the front door. It turned out to be the neighbour, the one from across the street, apparently, he's a carpenter, one who was currently fighting with what was left of the front door.

"Mornin', neighbour. I wasn't sure you were here… you know considering I have been hammering away at this for some time now," he spoke not in an island dialect but a slow southern drawl, which immediately made him an interesting subject to study. My camera would love to tell his story. It would be a nice contrast to the natives, while we were both from North America, with my dark skin I could easily blend with the natives whereas he stood out. It was his speech, his silky brown short curls and, his normal fair skin was now visibly tanned from sun worship. He had eyes of sapphire, a roman nose, a salt and pepper beard neatly trimmed short accentuating the sexiest pink lips and his perfect bone structure. Yes, he had a story... one yet to be told.

The scene reminded me of "Moonlight and Valentino", except, instead of a painter, I was standing here ogling one hot ass carpenter. A very distracting one too. I was, so busy sizing him up I forgot he greeted me to which I was yet to reply. Oh_, snap! Gurl roll your tongue back in your mouth and speak as your mama taught you to do. _

"Morning," I replied not quite sure what else to say, "you do know this isn't my place and you may never be reimbursed for your labour, right?"

My landlord, Jerry wasn't the most reliable person, but I was stuck for a place to stay until such time the influx of diasporas who were on the island for the summer returned home.

"Don't worry 'bout it ma'am, I'll settle up with Jerry eventually," he said, "using his arm to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead.

_Lawd have mercy, if I knew breaking something would have brought him across the street sooner, I would have broken something every day just to watch the sweat drip off of him._

"I don't know you very well, but it won't be safe to stay here like this. I'll patch it up for now but you're more than welcome to the extra room at my place, no strings attached of course. You could consider it an upgrade since Jerry's also my landlord, too."

He was right with the broken windows and now the barely there door, it wasn't the safest place to stay, but was the alternative rooming with a stranger with whom the longest conversation was the one we just had? Apart from my camera equipment which was always with me, there was nothing in the place to steal. However, the thought of sleeping here without a storm as a deterrent to keep people indoors might be a different thing altogether, so I weighed my options.

"No strings attached, but I'll take your picture for insurance purposes… I mean, if I should you know... disappear… or just happen to wash up on shore, folks will know you're the last person with whom I had contact."

He laughed and his laugh lines were prominent, his amusement was disarming. Once he was thoroughly satisfied with my attempt at self-preservation, he wiped his hand on his torn jeans and extend it to me. "I'm Rick… Rick Grimes. Pleased to meet yah, Ma'am". His handshake was firm and strong. His hand was calloused to the touch no doubt from hard labour.

"Michonne Jones. Please to meet you, Mr. Grimes."

"It's just Rick, Mr. Grimes' my daddy."

"In that case, Rick, just Rick, I'm Michonne… not Ma'am because I'm younger than you are, old man." I retort with a small smile.

"Ouch! Fair enough, can I entice you to a warm cup of java? I've been here long enough to know that it'll be a while before the power's back on for you to be able to use the appliances."

Raising my eyebrow I asked him, "How's it that you have coffee then?"

"I live pretty much as the Islanders do, I don't rely solely on appliances, as a matter of fact, I prefer the old ways. I have a coal pot… if you're nice... I might even make you breakfast too," he teased packing up his tool kit and forgetting all about the door.

The thought of food made my stomach growl. It was embarrassing. "I reckon I have no choice now that you have me at a disadvantage."

**...**

Thirty minutes later, I sat outdoors in Rick's backyard with my eyes closed inhaling the strong rich aroma of the coffee as it percolated on the coal pot; the smell awakened my taste buds in anticipation of tasting the hot sweet flavourful liquid while waiting for the breakfast spread my host was preparing for us.

Mr. Grimes fibbed just a little; he had not only a coal pot but also barbeque pit on which he was currently, busy, preparing us a rustic breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, fried tomatoes, and mushrooms all cooking in a cast iron frying pan. The tantalizing aromas caused my stomach to growl and my mouth to water in anticipation of the delicious meal.

In the meantime, my eyes studied the carpenter turned chef. The entire scene conjured images of what camping might be like if I was courageous enough to sleep under the stars.

It wasn't long before we sat at the polished concrete picnic table, my hands wrapped around a warm mug of black coffee which was loaded with sugar.

The aromas of bacon, fried eggs and sausages assaulted my nose. The tantalizing fragrance in the open air mixed with the earthy scent after the rain it was an incredible blend. The food tasted just as good as it smells a mixture of sweet, salty, crispy, soft and chewy goodness.

"So, you're not only a carpenter, but a chef too?" I inquired about his resume in between devouring a strip of the crispy bacon, "It's really good, thank you!"

"Just being hospitable to a fellow compatriot," he replied rather humble.

My host was a man of very few words. He intrigued me… there was a story there, I could feel it, but it was a story for another day.

At the moment, I chose to sit back and enjoy my breakfast, the company and the breathtaking view of the island. Our vantage point on the hillside offered a spectacular view of the narrow road snaking its way around the mountainside. Around us, there were patches which Leslie missed completely juxtaposed with the carnage, but overall life continued and the Caribbean Sea below was calm once again; this was the story I would tell today.


	2. Chapter 2

**Carpenter, Chef, Chauffeur and a Cop**

* * *

_The Chauffeur_

At the moment, I was as comfortable as I could be given the circumstances. The young Dr. Sinclair had pity on me and gave me a lift on his way home because I had just spent about three hours in the emergency room.

My case was not deemed serious enough to warrant quick service because all my bodily fluids remained inside of me. No bleeding or puking, ergo not serious enough nor dying, so I sat there in pain. Finally, after the x-rays of my knee revealed nothing was broken, it was just a soft tissue sprain and given a pair of crutches a prescription for Tylenol 3 with Codeine and instructions to rest, ice, compress, and elevate my leg. Yeah, me!

Apparently, I was his last patient of the day and Sugar Hill Road just happens to be on his way home, though I had my doubts about that one. The good doctor was rather handsome with his caramel coloured skin, chestnut coloured hair in a high top fade. He had ice blue eyes and a roman nose. His face sported scruff with a low cheek line and thin sideburns, a moustache, and his chin was shaved ever so slightly towards the tip to give him a cleaner look. His bone structure was exquisite. He was approximately five feet, seven inches tall with an athletic build… a very nice catch for someone, but I wasn't looking for a boyfriend because things in that department were a little complicated at the moment.

For the time being, however, Dr. Carl Sinclair was comfortable playing the role of doctor, but it was obvious he was interested in more because he was constantly smiling at me. After helping me to the sofa, adjusting the throw pillows, and propping my leg up onto the coffee table, he dispensed my medication and passed me a glass of water; he then left with a promise of popping by to check on me on his way to work the next day.

Thirty minutes later, I was starting to feel some relief from the medication. I was exhausted. My eyelids were heavy, so I wasn't going to fight it even though it was fairly early given the sun had just set.

The phone mounted on the kitchen wall began screeching... ring, ring, ring, ring.

"Fuck," it wasn't like I could even think about it, the throbbing in my knee had finally subsided and I didn't plan on moving.

Suddenly, Rick came through the front door about a minute after the shrill noise began and went directly to answer the phone.

At that moment, I thought the fates had heard me willing the damn thing to stop ringing, but in retrospect, I wished he had arrived at least ten minutes later. But who was I kidding anyway? My mother would've just kept calling until such time the infernal contraption was answered because she couldn't reach me on my cellphone which was currently at the bottom of a hillside.

I mentally chided myself for giving her the number… his number, but in all fairness, it was the most feasible way to reach me especially if the weather was bad. I knew my folks were monitoring the weather regularly too. They were older and they worried about me taking off the way I did, so I sucked it up… it was a fair enough trade considering what I recently cost them.

"Hello," he said in that lazy southern drawl. It's been almost three weeks since we've been roomies and I still can't get over the cadence of his voice.

"What number were you calling, ma'am?"

Oh shit! It was my mother. It was as bad as I thought.

"No...no, you've got the right number, ma'am. I presume you're Mrs. Jones, which means you're looking for Michonne, right?"

"The name's, Rick Grimes, ma'am… a friend of Michonne's." He turned towards me for the first time taking in my reclined form with my bandaged knee and the nearby crutches with raised brows with a what the fuck look on his face.

"Yes, ma'am. I was born in a lil town in Kentucky called King County, but eventually we moved to Atlanta where I grew up," he replied to the inquisitor whilst glancing over his shoulder from time to time. He knew I was listening and I did so shamelessly finally getting to know something more about the man of so few words.

The beauty of the wall-mounted device is that he was trapped there and my mother was getting the skinny on him from thousands of miles away. I mean how's that even possible, like for real. The man who kept his personal life so tightly guarded from the stranger he took in was now opening up to a stranger over the phone, someone he's never even laid eyes on. Thank heavens for silver linings, I thought, but I couldn't help but notice even though he was engaging my mother, he still managed to say very little about himself. Instead, my mother the gossip was filling him in on my life.

"Law school, you don't say?" He looked back at me with a very puzzled look on his face and I swore, the moment I got me a new phone and some privacy, I would give my mother a piece of my mind.

I could only hear Rick's side of the story, but I knew my mother and when she wasn't giving him the third degree she was spilling tea. Tea that was best kept in the family.

"Four months? I would tend to agree with you on that... it's an awfully long time to be gone."

I was mortified. The house number was meant to be used for emergencies only. However, for obvious reasons, I kinda neglected to tell my mother that I was now rooming with my former neighbour who just happens to be a man and one I didn't know very well. I kinda figured that I'd ease my way into it… but no, I had to lose my damn phone the day she decides to call me.

Oh God, no… she didn't.

My embarrassment caused me to sink even further down into the soft leather sofa in the living room, all the while wishing I could just melt into my surroundings. I could feel my skin heat up. Suddenly, I was once again a sophomore in high school when she tried hugging me on the first-day drop-off.

Really, mother? You don't even know him… your verbal diarrhea knows no bounds. What happened to what happens in Jones' manor stays in Jones' manor... Please don't tell him why...

Rick's casual glances and constant smirk tells me he was rather enjoying whatever my mother was saying to him.

Believe it or not, I really do love my mother, but she can be extra at times especially when she happens to stumble onto something juicy; she can be like a bloodhound. I suppose that's what happens when you have a researcher and gossip for a mother. She was always classifying shit even when not at work.

Currently, my mother was so caught up in getting the deets and spilling tea with Rick just Rick Grimes, not that she'd ever call him Rick mind you… naah; he had just been upgraded to his adult name, that being Richard of course, but I digress. My mother has completely forgotten the purpose of her call, but what annoyed me the most was that the two seemed to have become besties in less than ten minutes.

Yeah, ma was totally enthralled by his southern charm and she hadn't even laid eyes on him… this was a fine complicated mess.

"Marianne, you're welcome to stay here anytime. We've got plenty of room. It was a pleasure speaking with you… Not to worry… call anytime… anytime at all."

What the fuck just happened? No… not only was he now on a first name basis with my mother… he just invited her to come down here. Damn it!… Now I really wished I had gotten off my arse and hobbled to the kitchen to answer that damn call.

"Michonne Alexandria Jones, it's for you, dear!" He announces with a crooked smile while moving the coffee table to the side and passing me my crutches. "After, I really would like to hear about your day."

I groaned at the sound of my baptismal name floating from his lips with such ease and seeing his eyes twinkle the way they did. I could feel my girlish island crush dying a slow painful death only to be rapidly replaced by a cool indifference towards him.

How dare he? Did I pry into his life like that? I'm sure Eunice will be happy to know that I will be moving out real soon. She won't have to worry about me anymore.

"I'll grab a shower, so you can have some privacy to talk to Marianne. I'll fix us something to eat after that, okay?"

I ignored him and pushed forward and began the long mile to the phone.

"Hi, Ma!"

"Don't you hi, Ma, me. I've been trying to reach you for hours child. Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry, Ma, but I lost my phone today. It went over the hillside when I fell and hurt myself. After that, I spent several hours at the hospital."

"Oh dear god. Are you okay, Michonne?" I could hear her inhale deeply on the other end of the line.

"Yes, Ma, I'll be fine… nothing's broken but I'll have to use crutches for a little while. I'll get a new phone tomorrow and will text you my new number." I could hear her breathe again, so I relaxed.

"You gave me quite a scare. We agreed that you would check in at least once a week, Michonne. It's been two weeks today since you last did so; your sister checked your Instagram and she tells me that you haven't updated since the storm."

"I know, Ma. I'm sorry. We were busy helping out the folks who were affected by the last storm. It's just been very long days and short nights. I was exhausted."

"I understand, dear, but please be more thoughtful, will you? Your father said if we couldn't reach you today, we would have to contact the local authorities."

"I'm fine, Ma… truly, I am."

"Good! Now, about that man, the one whose photo you posted on that site. Who is he and is he the reason why you left poor Michael at the altar four months ago?"

I was so going to kill Sasha. My mother knew nothing about Instagram, I neglected to update my public account, but I did post a few pics of the mysterious carpenter and resident chef on my private account. Obviously, Sasha thought it was funny to show the photos to our mother.

"No, Ma… he's not." I answered not wanting to be overheard just in case my mother hadn't already filled him in on that part of my life.

"Who is he to you, Michonne?"

"He was my neighbour, but the storm damaged the place where I was staying, so, he's now my current landlord, Ma."

"That's Richard?"

"Yes, Ma, that's Rick."

"Well, isn't he a handsome devil? I wasn't expectin' someone so handsome to go with that voice of his. His gray hair makes him distinguished, don't you think? A little older than Michael, but then..."

Oh my god, my mother had fallen under his spell. This was so inappropriate. Please don't say you're coming here. I needed to get off the phone… better yet off this damn island... I just couldn't anymore.

"Ma, I really need to get off my feet and relax. I'll call soon, I promise. I love you and tell dad I love him too."

"Okay, dear. Please take care of yourself and don't be so damn stubborn. Love you too."

What the hell did she mean by that?

* * *

Waking up to someone pounding on the door seems to be a habit around these parts. I was still groggy with sleep having taken an extra pill during the night. I was due for another because my leg was killing me.

Thankfully, Rick went to answer the door, but now he was knocking on mine.

"Are you decent?" he asked sounding somewhat annoyed.

I looked myself over wondering what he wanted. I was still in my pj's which translated to a tank top and short cotton shorts. I usually go without a bra, but after he saw me practically naked a week ago when I was using the shower in the backyard, I decided to be more conservative whenever he was around because things got kinda weird between us. He wouldn't even look me in the eye for several days after. We had just gotten back to some semblance of our roommate arrangement, so I thought it best to put on a bra and my robe first before going into the common area.

"Give me five minutes."

Meanwhile in the living room…

"So, doc, what brings you by?" I asked the frat boy standing in my living room.

"Mr. Grimes, I'm keeping my promise to my patient. I told her I'd check in on her on my way to work. If things are okay that's great, but if they aren't I could give her lift to the hospital and well run more tests," he added in a rather condescending manner.

"Since when do you make house calls, doc?"

Rick words were laced with contempt, but why?

"I generally don't, but my patient is on my way to and from the hospital."

"Well, if Michonne needs to get anywhere and that includes the hospital I'll bring her myself; you needn't go out of your way, doc."

"I dropped her off here yesterday. I guess she forgot to tell you this or the fact that I would be checking up on her this morning?"

This was bad, Dr. Carl was actually trying to rile Rick up not that he had to try very hard either.

I cleared my throat as I entered the room to find the two cocks sizing one another up and displaying a readiness to claim their prize.

Isn't it funny how neither of them asked what I wanted?

Immediately, they both forgot their pettiness towards the other and rushed to either side of me to help me get comfortable.

Rick was faster, of course, removing the crutch from under my right arm sliding his hand behind my body and allowing my arm to fall around his neck, he then pulled me closer to him effectively leaving the good doctor to fluff and place the pillows. I couldn't even enjoy the moment, knowing my island crush wasn't completely one-sided because the throbbing in my leg robbed me of that.

I bumped my knee as I positioned myself on the sofa. ''Ouch!"

"Get her some water," the doctor barked his revenge while placing pills in the palm of my hand and proceeds to undo the bandage and examine my knee.

"Thank you," I said to Rick as I took the glass of water he offered and gulped it down chasing the pills I plopped into my mouth. "Shit… that hurts a lot!" I added as the doctor's fingers methodically examined my knee, which was now swollen three times its actual size.

"It's worse than I thought. You will have to go to St. John's to see an Orthopedic Surgeon, but you'll have to do it today."

"Doc, people wait months before they get an appointment like that," Rick advised.

"Well, it's a good thing that I happen to know people, isn't?… Just let me make a call. You should pack for a few days. I'll rearrange my shifts and take you there myself, Michonne."

"Wherever Michonne goes, I go too."

"Suit yourself, but you're paying for your own accommodations."

"STOP IT!"

What the hell was it with these two, anyway? Don't I have a say in this?

"Dr. Sinclair, please make the call, but I'll be staying in a hotel. Thanks."

"As you wish, Michonne," Dr. Sinclair replied and stepped outside to make the call.

"Rick, thank you for what you said earlier, but you shouldn't feel obligated to go with me."

"I don't feel obligated, Michonne. I want to do this..." He stops suddenly as if not sure he should continue at all.

"But?" I asked prodding him along.

He hung his head low and turned slightly away from me before speaking, "Why didn't you call me yesterday?" He asked unable to completely disguise the hurt in his voice which reflected back at me with sad eyes.

I looked at him as if he had two heads. Does a person even know another's phone number anymore? Yes, I had his number in my phone which was currently at the bottom of a ravine. I don't even know my own parents' number by heart.

"I would have, but when I fell my phone went over the hillside… I'm sorry. Scott, the guide was supposed to call you, but I was in so much pain I don't know what happened. When you didn't turn up at the hospital I figured he forgot."

I could see relief registering throughout his body as he raised his head and his eyes met mine once more.

He was jealous and I'm doing a three-legged dance in my head. Yeah, Rick just Rick Grimes… you like me! God, I'm being so childish right now... I'll just blame it on the drugs.

"I was at the phone booth trying to call a taxi when Dr. Sinclair saw me and offered to drive me home."

"So, we're good?"

"Well, about that… your hijacking of my mother's call no… we're not even yet."

"Oh come on, Michonne Alexandria Jones… we've got to get you packed … you have a doctor to see 'bout that leg of yours."

"Please don't call me that. My parents call me that… and when they do it was never good."

"So, you've been Island hopping for close to four months, eh?"

I really need to divorce my mother… no wonder he wasn't saying much about himself. Why should he when he was getting the skinny on me.

* * *

"Michonne Jones? the nurse called out waiting for the lucky person to show herself.

I stood up and so did Rick. "Wait, you're not staying with our stuff?" I asked not understanding why he would want to go into the consultation with me.

"No!" The sudden shutdown was unexpected.

"Very well then, grab my camera bag and come." I was just too tired and drugged up to fight with him, so he did as I asked and we followed the nurse down the hall.

Shortly after we were shown to the examination room, a tall attractive dark-skin Black man came rushing in fighting his way into his doctor's coat to cover his grey polo shirt which matched his grey and navy plaid golfing pants. His black hair sprinkled with white was closely cropped to his skull. His dark brown eyes were framed by thick squared black-rimmed glasses, which were perched on the bridge of his wide nose. His oblong face was framed with a beard and moustache, the sideburns were dotted with white hair while the chin area was heavily saturated with a patch of white hair.

Extending his hand to me, "Ms. Jones, I'm Dr. Negan Walker," he said with a British accent and a wide smile after his eyes raked over my body.

A genuine hiss could be heard to my right. Only then did he acknowledge Rick's presence. "And you are?"

"Rick Grimes," he added pumping Dr. Walker's hand once more and squeezing it for emphasis as I watched his bicep flex then he released it.

I rolled my eyes. Here we go again… another pissing match.

I used the back of my hand to cover my cough, "Pardon me. Umm… Dr. Walker, thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"You're a lucky lady. I can see why my son's so smitten by you."

"Your son?"

"Yes, Carl's my son. You don't think I'd bail on my tee time for just anyone, do you?"

"Dr. Sinclair?"

"What can I say, the kidz a hardass… goes by his mother's name mostly to take the piss out of me."

I was shocked by the revelation.

"Anyway, I wasn't 'bout to let the kid be sued for malpractice before his career begins. Let's have a look at this leg of yours, shall we?"

**…**

When all was said and done, I ended up with a temporary cast from mid-thigh to mid-calf having torn the ligaments in my knee. We were staying overnight and I would have to return once my prosthetic was ready.

**…**

Later that night...

"Thank you again for accompanying me, Rick," I said as he set his fork and knife across his plate signalling he was done eating.

"It's nothing…. Really."

"Please don't do that…" I hated this part, whenever it was just the two of us… there was this wall between us, but his earlier actions contradicted what he was projecting at the moment. I was getting mixed signals from him.

"Do what exactly?"

"This… pretending that you're responsible for me… that what you're doing is normal for someone to do for a person you hardly know."

"Michonne, I told you… I want to help you."

"Why do you want to chauffeur me around? What is it you're not telling me? Why did you behave the way you did this morning?"

Resigned, he took his napkin and wiped his pink lips. "You've been down here for four months, in that time, three single young women travelling alone literally vanished into thin air. Over the past eighteen months, twelve women have disappeared…."

He had been watching me the whole time. That morning, he thought I was missing after the storm.

Of course, why didn't I see it before? He's a cop!

"Are you a cop?"


	3. Chapter 3

**_Carpenter, Chef, Chauffeur and a Cop_**

* * *

_The Cop_

"I am... I was…" he replied.

"Well either you are or you aren't a cop, Rick, so which is it?"

"I was... back in Atlanta, but not anymore."

"So what are you now?"

"Just a guy living on a beautiful island learning to appreciate life," he replied as though his answer should have been obvious to me.

God, his non-answers can be so damn infuriating. This was the man who thoroughly enjoyed the gossip my mother spilled about me, but prefers to keep his personal life off limits. Hell, he learned more about me in less than ten minutes than I knew about him after living with him for three weeks.

"Rick, can you stop with the bullshit already?

He seemed surprised by my language, but I didn't care.

"Michonne, it's not bullshit... In the three weeks since you've lived with me, have I ever once gotten up and gone off to work?"

He was right, but I had no idea what he did with his days beyond helping folks or riding the waves when I was off doing my own thing. There were also some nights when he stayed out fairly late or all night because he wasn't home by the time I went to bed, on said occasions, I figured he was out taking care of his needs. It happened when I first moved in and we were just trying to get acclimated to another person in our space. It also happened again after the backyard incident, when he wouldn't look me in the eye.

_For all I know, his late nights were probably due to the fact that he was seeing a married woman on the side. It wasn't exactly a wise thing for him to do being that he wasn't a local and it could only end badly for him. Then again, what did it matter what he did anyway? Poor woman, she had to be a Saint or the next best thing to it because it was frustrating as hell living with him. Maybe she already knew this and decided it was better to settle for dessert instead of the full meal. Smart woman, indeed. _

I didn't feel uncomfortable in his presence, actually, it was quite the opposite and I was beginning to resent it because he had the upper hand, he knew my secrets or some of them thanks to my mother's big mouth.

My rational mind knew he would never hurt me because the man who not only charms my mother and invites her to visit wasn't about to hurt her daughter. But how much did I really know about Rick? There was this chasm between us and he seems unwilling to bridge the divide.

In the past twenty-four hours, however, I became his main focus, his pet project if you will, but how long before the storm had he been tracking me?

Now that I know Rick was… is or whatever the hell his status was as a cop, it was blatantly obvious; he listens a lot but volunteers little to nothing at all about himself.

Rick Grimes was a collector of information and wherever he went he constantly surveyed his environment. At first, I thought it was a peculiar tick of his, but now it makes perfect sense to me. You see, like him, I'm a watcher of things, people, nature and such... always waiting for that perfect shot. It's the reason why I know there's more to him than meets the eye. There was something behind the pain, which he tries so valiantly to hide.

My little obsession with his face meant I've taken countless photos of him, some of which he allowed and a whole lot he didn't. Those candid moments were especially favourites of mine.

There was one particular shot I took when he was telling me about his day on the courts playing basketball with the children; he began so animated then there was a fleeting moment in time when he froze. There was a flicker... a recognition of something, perhaps déjà vu … he stopped speaking altogether. His clear blue eyes had that far away look, his features changed ever so slightly, and for an instant, there was pain there and his eyes became sad. It was fleeting, but somehow I managed to capture that moment… that's the Rick Grimes I would like to know, but he slammed the door shut almost as quickly as it opened, he shuddered as if a chill went through him from someone stepping over his grave.

I was never meant to witness something so personal to him. I longed to ask him about that day, but instead, I asked, "How long?"

"What?" he responded seemingly confused by my line of questioning.

"How long have you been watching me?"

"Since you arrived." He said, seemingly relieved after revealing his little secret. I waited for him to expand on it, but nothing… nada.

"Why?"

"I told you why. Plus, Jerry asked me to keep an eye on the place whenever you take off. According to the plan, you were scheduled to go island hopping again for a few weeks, were you not?"

My surprise must have shown, he raised his as though challenging me to dispute it. When I was negotiating my rent, I vaguely mentioned my intent to keep my base on Sugar Hill Road while visiting the other islands from time to time. My family were the only people to know my exact itinerary for obvious reasons. However, as it stands now, it would not surprise me if he also knew my social security number at this point.

"What makes you think that I'm in danger? Like you said, I've been island hopping for four months without incident."

"Michonne, everyone's luck runs out sooner or later. That said, however, I'm happy you made it here without incident, but you are still in the target demographic."

"How many women have gone missing from there?"

"Only one to date, back when it all began. Montserrat is fairly small, so for that reason, it's believed that he lives there, but hunts elsewhere. The woman he took from there is believed to be a one-off of sorts… a compulsion he just couldn't resist."

"How long have you been down here, Rick?"

"Just shy of a year."

"So, what makes you think he'll take another girl from there?"

"All depends whether or not he can control his compulsion to not shit where he eats."

"And just how do I fit into this demographic you mentioned?"

In the past eight weeks, only six females between the ages of twenty and thirty-five came through customs alone; that is, without a partner or without a group. The five others have since left the island."

"Isn't somewhat illegal? You know…. to be sharing that kind of information on visitors who pose no threat whatsoever, especially when there's no proof of some discernible pattern or criminal behaviour? There's potentially one disappearance, but no proof of the body or request for ransom."

"Things don't work as they do back home, Michonne. A blind eye is turned to protect the women, the last thing anyone wants is for it to get out the island isn't safe, then that affects its economy. The Hunter, that's what they've dubbed him, believes he's flying under the radar there, so he will strike again. He's bound to because his hunting grounds are too hot right now and he's accelerating. The last abduction occurred eight weeks ago and before that, it was ten."

He spoke with such conviction, he was fooling himself into thinking he was no longer a cop. He was very much still an active member of law enforcement even if he was semi-retired, or whatever the case may be. How could he not see that? It coursed through his veins it was his raison d'être.

"Sounds to me like you're still very much a cop, Rick." His body shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like the conversation's new direction.

"I hang out with the local guys, so I hear thangs and sometimes we talk shop, but no… I can assure you that I'm no longer an active member of a police force." He added as he got up from the table where we sat on the balcony and brought the dishes inside to the kitchen. It was his way of escaping an argument, but we weren't nearly done talking. He had answers and I was going to get them.

I got up from the table and followed him, "Why are you here Rick, I meaning hiding out on a little island in the middle of the Caribbean? If anonymity is what you seek, then you're certainly going about it the wrong way, aren't you?"

"Seems to me, I can ask you the very same question, Michonne. What was so bad back home to make you check out of your life there and hop from one island to another for you to find yourself smack in the middle of this mess?"

"No… you don't get to ask questions anymore, Rick. It's my turn, one phone call with my mother and you have intimate details about my life. I've lived with you for three weeks and I still don't know anything meaningful about you other than the fact you were a cop." I said to his back as he continues to scrape the remnants from the dishes into the garbage.

His silence was maddening,

After placing the dishes into the sink, he washed his hands and dried them with the towel he took from over his shoulder.

He slowly turns to face me with his back against the sink. His eyes danced with mischief. He wore a smirk. He taunts me, "I would beg to differ, Michonne Alexandria. You know a whole lot more about me than most people do," he added, "for instance, you know that I like my coffee hot and black. You know I was born in King County but grew up in Atlanta. You know I like using my hands…" he said as he took a step towards me his blue eyes a darker shade than normal, "for instance you also know I love to cook too. I love to cook for you because you appreciate food, you don't pick at it like most women do."

_He was so close now I could smell his musk mingled with the fresh scent of his soap. God, I hate him. He was toying with me and my body's betraying me because it has been a while._

"You also know that I spend a great deal of time helping out neighbours however I can," he added grabbing a chair from the nearby table for me to sit down, something I refused to do, so we remained where we were and had a staring match as he continues to prattle on.

"You most definitely know that I hate being photographed, but I humour you, all I ask is that you don't post my picture online. You know that I love the beach because I spend a great deal of time there with you when you're not off on some guided tour with a bunch of strangers. I'm a simple man, Michonne. I don't ask for much… no heavy maintenance here."

_So, Rick Grimes had words? Fuck, he was hot even when frustrated. Why did we have this effect on one another?_

His eyes bore into me as he lists all the many little things I already knew about him, meanwhile adding nothing of substance whatsoever.

Something struck his funny bone, however, because he laughs, "Are you seriously mad at me for trying to keep you safe, or is it because you think Marianne may have let the cat out of the bag?"

Shots were fired on both fronts.

He struck the nail on the head, combed his fingers through his soft silky curls and exhaled sharply. The pulse at his temple was throbbing. He was waiting for a reaction from me.

Naturally, I fired back, "That may be so, but who's Rick Grimes and what made him come here? They say it takes a certain kind to recognize their flaw in another. Well, I know what made me run, Rick, but, do you even know why you're running and going nowhere fast?"

I struck a nerve. His complexion begins to change a slight flush starts to surface, but he masked his irritation beautifully with his deflection.

"We came here for a consultation, or did you forget that?"

"No… I didn't but thanks for reminding me. I did tell you that you didn't have to come, but you insisted." I spat back at him turned and slowly made my way to the first bedroom down the hall. We were staying in a suite, which was his idea because he didn't believe we should be separated. This two steps forward four steps back was beginning to wear my nerves raw.

Personally, I think the more distance we create between us would make for the ideal solution. His mood swings ran hot and cold around me. He was confusing the hell out of me and I was done playing Rachel Marron to his Frank Farmer. I didn't need a bodyguard.

Entering the room I slammed the door shut and locked it and stood there, frustrated.

_How the hell did this happen? When did a stupid crush turn into something else?_

I was angry at myself for allowing him to get under my skin the way he did. It went without saying living in such close quarters with him was definitely not a good idea.

"Shit!" I heard him say as slams something himself. Minutes later, he was knocking on my door.

"Michonne, look... I'm sorry, okay? Can we please talk about it?"

I ignored him and walked over to the bed. There was no point in changing because I planned on making the first ferry back Montserrat, so I called and cancelled my flight and booked a place on the ferry instead.

**...**

Early the next morning, I went to the front desk paid the bill and asked the Clerk, Noah, to call me a taxi. Twenty minutes later, when I went back inside there was a sign, it said ring for service, which I did except no one came.

I swore the moment I got my hands on a phone, I would definitely be leaving a review.

I returned outside to see none other than Mr. Grimes waiting in the rental car with a big grin on his face, which explains poor Noah's absence. He had no doubt ratted me out.

"Can I offer you a lift somewhere?"

God, I hate his smugness. He no doubt figured out I would cancel my flight. Naturally, being a southern gentleman he was outside of the vehicle before I could even process my next move, but I still wasn't about to talk to him. I managed to get myself in the vehicle and we drove to the ferry in complete silence except for the background noise offered by the radio.

* * *

"Da fuck?" he said. Something was wrong, there was smoke coming from the backyard.

Eleven o'clock that morning we pulled up on the road just outside the house instead of into the driveway. He kills the engine, looks at me while unbuckling his seatbelt. My eyes followed his towards the smoke.

"Michonne, I know you're still pissed at me, but for the love of god, will you please stay in the truck while I check this out?"

I simply looked at him but said nothing.

"You're hurt and someone's possibly inside. I can't protect you this way. Don't follow me," he said taking his flip phone from his pocket and passing it to me.

Before leaving the truck, however, he reaches over opens the glove compartment. He retrieves his gun. His eyes locked onto mine which revealed the pure shock from his actions. I'm not even sure why I'm surprised at this given that I know he's a cop. One who seems to believe that he's given up that life.

He got out of the vehicle and stuck the gun in the back of his jeans adjusting his polo shirt to conceal it. He slammed the car door shut, pissed though I'm not sure who vexed him more, me or the intruder. He walked into the yard then disappears behind the house.

* * *

Nothing made sense. We had only been gone for a day, but it seems some brazen stranger not only broke into the house but was acting as though he or she lived there. The person was also in the process of preparing to cook on the grill.

**...**

It had been ten minutes since Rick left me with instructions not to follow him. There were no gunshots so both he and the intruder were obviously alive as no one tried fleeing from the house. This fact makes me believe the intruder had to be known to him. Why else would Rick fail to come back to signal the property was clear or perhaps he was taken out by surprise, the latter I found hard to believe.

Naturally, I had to see what the hell was going on for myself. I walked up the driveway and using my key, I went through the front door and heard two voices. It was exactly as I thought, they're buddies or were.

**...**

"Now, you wouldn't shoot a man in the back would you, brother?"

"All depends, a man has the right to protect his property. You're trespassing."

"I'm makin' myself at home. Ain't doin' nothin' I wouldn't do back in Atlanta, except there… there was always a key under the flowerpot."

"Exactly. You're breaking and entering, Shane."

"How do you figure that, bruh? The mat said welcome."

"Well, that's only if you were invited which you were not. How the hell did you find me, anyway?"

"Ouch, bruh. If I was a lesser man I might have been hurt by that remark. How else, Eugene worked his magic on some photo he found on Instagram… you know the metadata shit if I know... long story short I came here yesterday afternoon, but you and the missus were gone."

Seriously Shane, put somethin' on… ain't no tellin' how soon before Michonne walks through the damn front door."

"You're afraid she might change her mind about you?"

"It's one thing to have a dick but being a dick is a completely different thing altogether."

"You got it bad for her don't you? I got to admit, personally, I thought she'd be more my speed because she's way outta your league, bruh."

"She's off limits to you, Shane… I'm serious."

"Well, if it's like that of course. I take it she knows about Lori, right? Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Get some clothes on while I tend the grill, will yah?"

"I see it's like that, huh? Just how long do you think she'll hang around if you don't work on that shit brother? You wanna blame someone, huh? Blame me for fuck sake. I'm the reason why you weren't there. It wasn't your fault, Rick and carrying that cross won't bring 'em back neither."

"Fuck off, Shane get some clothes on before Michonne walks in here to find you like this."

"This Michonne chick has really gotten under your skin, hasn't she? That honey must be really sweet."

"SHANE, I'm warning you…"

I had heard enough, so I slammed the front door shut. This Shane sounds like a real arse, but thanks to him I knew a little more than I did before about the famous Rick Grimes, the one everyone on the island held in such high esteem.


	4. Chapter 4

**Carpenter, Chef, Chauffeur and a Cop**

* * *

_The Guest_

"Richard?"

"Hey, Marianne. How are you doing?"

"I'm a little worried, I've been trying to reach Michonne, but there's no answer at the house. She promised to send her new contact information yesterday, but she did not. Is everything okay, dear? " Marianne asked her voiced laced with concern.

"I'm sorry about that. Yeah, we had to go to Saint John's yesterday, it turns out her injury was a little more serious than originally thought."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, she tore the ligament, in her knee, so she's now in a temporary cast and we're waiting for her prosthetic to be ready."

"Oh dear, it's that bad? Where is she now?"

"Doc says she'll be good as new, eventually. Michonne's taking painkillers so if you couldn't reach her, she's probably resting. She's supposed to be staying off that leg of hers." I answered rather distracted while looking at the selection of phones that were before me. I was in over my head because I'm not really a techy and my friend, Shane, who was more in tuned with this shit he was of no help at all. He didn't even make it into the store. He was too busy exchanging his contact information with the young woman he met in the parking lot.

"Richard?"

"Sorry, Marianne, I'm a bit distracted... just trying to choose a new phone for Michonne. By the way, you wouldn't happen to know what type of phone she had, would you?"

"Oh, dear, I think we might all have iPhones, but I'm not sure which model she has. Mine is an 8 and it works just fine."

"An iPhone it is then," I said relieved having had the decision made for me. I signalled the clerk to let him know I would be taking two phones, it was high time I upgraded anyway. There was a method to my madness, she was going to be pissed again, but I'd rather beg for forgiveness than to ask her for permission.

"Marianne, I have to go now…. I need to wrap up this transaction, but I'll tell Michonne you called, okay?"

"Of course, dear, sorry to bother you."

"It's not at all a bother, Marianne… I enjoy speaking with you."

"You're such a charmer, Richard, you sure know how to put an old lady at ease. Thank you again for looking out for our wayward daughter; Morgan and I, we truly appreciate it." She added as the earlier concern dissipates from her voice.

"It's my pleasure, really. We'll talk soon." I added ending the call happy that she was at ease knowing her daughter was safe.

* * *

"From eighteen months ago to weeks? Man, that's crazy-ass shit. And you believe he lives here?" Shane asked.

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because it's the only place he hasn't revisited in the past eighteen months. The first girl was a mistake. I mean, the fact he took her from here, that is."

"So, you're thinking it was more of a compulsion thang?"

"Exactly. She was last seen at some beach party hosted by some rich kids, but no one remembers seeing her leave."

"It also could be as simple as her being drunk and taking a wrong turn and getting carried out to sea."

"But that's the thang, her body didn't wash-up. The sea eventually gives the body back, but in eighteen months, there's been nothing. Her folks came shortly after her disappearance and claimed her belongings. But her purse, her passport.. anything to prove her identity was never found it vanished with her. Pffff… like she never existed."

"But, unlike the cops here, you happen to have someone in mind, don't you?"

Shane knew me well because we grew up together in Atlanta. We were both detectives with the Atlanta Police Department when we applied to the Bureau and went through Quantico together. Unlike Shane, however, Lori and I returned to Atlanta the first opportunity I got because my dad was sick and mom needed help, that was five years ago.

"I thought you said there were virtually no secrets on this island."

"Well, there's always those that folks are willing to take to their graves."

"Yeah, I get it... it's complicated."

"Exactly."

"Even here, politics runs deep, huh? Probably even more so because of the size of the island..."

Shane's words trailed off. He was no longer listening to me and I didn't have to guess why.

…**.**

"So, Richard, darlin'… wah me gonna get for you and your handsome friend?" Eunice asked in her thick island dialect, flipping her shoulder-length auburn braids winking shamelessly at Shane. I guess it was supposed to make me jealous, but it really didn't.

Don't get me wrong, Eunice was a very attractive woman. She was about average height, approximately thirty-five years of age, light brown skin, hazel eyes, full lips with an hourglass figure. When I first arrived here, she offered me a shoulder to cry on, but I wasn't looking for anyone at the time, so we elected to be friends instead. I knew it bruised her ego at the time, but we became better friends for it. However, she didn't like women looking my way for any length of time and she could be downright catty. She thinks I don't know this, but life is just too short, it's more about choosing one's battles. Her possessiveness, however, worked in my favour whenever I needed to get rid of unwanted attention, so I allowed it. It's kind of a one-sided arrangement between us because the men here weren't stupid enough to overstep her boundaries since Eunice happened to be the Police Chief's daughter, that said, but she wasn't the damsel in distress type neither.

Eunice could easily handle her own shit. On more than one occasion, when thangs got rowdy, I've seen her pull out the baseball bat that was kept behind the bar and bring order to the place. She didn't rely on the fact that there were almost always off-duty law enforcement officers who frequented her establishment to protect her. She was an independent badass.

Her physical attributes were exactly what Shane liked. She was top-heavy with a Barbie waistline and hips to match her top with long toned legs; she also wore the skimpiest pieces of clothing too. She needn't do so, of course, but she confessed drunken fools tend to be more generous with tips when the women staff dressed a certain way, so they obliged.

Minutes before she announced her presence, Shane's eyes bugged out of his head, his tongue fell to the floor and I could literally see signs of drool at the corner of his mouth. Based on his reaction, I knew Eunice had materialized on the scene and she was approaching our table, my table really because I always sit in the same spot. It was to the point now that no one sits here whether or not I was in the restaurant. The seat gave me a perfect vantage point of the entire dining room, bar, and both the front entrance and the hallway leading to the back door.

Shane was a tits and ass man and Eunice had it all. Unfortunately, he didn't like his women for their intellect.

Eunice, on the other hand, she owned and operated this establishment. She had more going on between the ears than Shane would care for, but I wasn't about to tell him that, so I decided to sit back and watch the two size one another up. It was gonna be fun watching Eunice's magic at work, so I smiled.

"Hey, Eunice. This is my buddy, Shane. Shane Walsh… Eunice King."

"Howdy, ma'am. Mighty nice to make your acquaintance," he said with a pronounced southern drawl. He was pouring on the southern charm taking her hand into his, lips brushing gently against her knuckles with his eyes locked on hers. Witnessing the whole thang made me feel like a damn voyeur.

Eunice surprised me though, I thought she could spot a player, but what do I know? Shane wasn't acting like a married mand and Eunice was an adult as I've said before, she was the Chief's daughter, so she needs no added protection from me.

_With Shane's attention on Eunice, he wasn't sniffing around Michonne and that was just fine by me_. What the fuck? The thought came out of nowhere. It surprised the hell out of me. Here I was analyzing the Island Princess who seemed to be smitten by Shane's roguish charms only to have thoughts of the complicated wanderer surfacing out of the blue, it was no doubt because of all the bullshit Shane said earlier.

I cleared my throat interrupting the two before me. "Eunice, I'll take my usual for here, Shane too and the seafood platter with a passion fruit smoothie to go for Michonne."

"Sorry, love,... me forgetting me manners, how di patient doin'? Doc Sinclair tells me y'all went over to the Saint John's clinic to see his dad." She said with a smile on her lips and a faraway look in her eyes. It was obvious, Michonne was an afterthought because Eunice seemed more interested in the memory of Sinclair's father than any true interest in Michonne's condition.

Just hearing the lil prick's name had me bristling. The piece of shit was playing games. There weren't many secrets on the island, so Eunice could have easily found out the information through multiple sources, but it came from him. He was sending me a message because Sinclair wasn't a regular at _King's Bar & Grill_. Where the hell was his patient confidentiality?

"Er… Eunice?" I called out to bring her back to the present.

"Sorry, sweetheart…" she blushed, "dat be di two specials. Di missus' dinner an' a smoothie to go?" She asked winking at Shane.

It was her not so subtle way of trying to get a confirmation as to the status of Michonne's and my relationship, something I would never confirm one way or the other.

"You boys be wantin' a pitcher o' beer or pints?"

"Two pints of Guinness would be great to start, thanks, Eunice."

"Sure, thing darlin', whatever makes you happy. Anything else, you boys, best holla because me doing double duty today." Eunice added sliding the small pencil behind her ear and placing her notebook in her apron pocket.

And with that, Eunice was the businesswoman once again. She walked away giving Shane more than an eyeful no doubt from the goofy look on his face. It was only a matter of time before she mopped the floor with him and kicked him to the curb because my brother was way out of his league… he just didn't know it yet.

**….**

"Seriously, Shane. Wipe that goofy look from your face. You're looking as though you ain't never seen a woman before."

"Shit, man, no wonder you don't wanna come home."

"Speaking of home, you said, Eugene found my photo online?"

"Yeah, he said it was a meme or some shit. Hell if I know, man. You know that guy from the beer commercial," Shane was doing a miserable job of explaining himself, so he pulled out his phone and pulled up the photo. It was a shot which was manipulated with me pouring a drink into a glass and superimposed over the photo, was the phrase, "Stay Thirsty, Bitches".

"What the fuck is this?" I recognized the photo, it was one of the first photos Michonne had taken of me, so I made a mental note to talk to her about it.

The photo was taken on the beach. In it, the island of Redonda, the uninhabited rock was featured prominently in the background behind the ferry, so it wasn't very hard figuring out the geographical location after that.

"So exactly why are you here, Shane?"

"I miss you, bruh. You don't write, you don't call… I tried finding you but you went ghost, man."

"Have you ever stopped to think that maybe this is exactly what I want."

"What? Being off the grid like this…" he gesticulated with his arms wide open looking surprised.

"I could do worse."

"What about your mama?"

"Ma's fine."

Since dad's death two years ago, my mother sold the family home and bought herself a small condo. She kept herself busy by going on cruises and seeing the world, something dad wasn't too keen on doing. She returned home for my wife's funeral but was off again within three months, so my decision to leave Atlanta wasn't sudden… there just wasn't anythang keeping me there. Ma and I kept in touch via email and she promised to spend Christmas on the island if I was still here by then.

I didn't want to dwell on that fact either, so I changed the subject.

"So, about The Hunter…?"

"You got a working profile?"

"Yeah. Male between eighteen to thirty-two. He's intelligent because he's been at this for at least eighteen months that we know of and hasn't been caught. He's educated because he shows discipline in order to have lasted this long while having law enforcement literally chasing their tails for as long as he has. He's organized because he leaves nothing to chance… no crumbs to follow so he's meticulous. He's also charming, he puts women at ease they don't feel threatened by him, quite the opposite… they're attracted to him and it's their death sentence if, in fact, he's killing them. He knows how to manipulate any given situation to suit himself, and he's a chameleon because he blends into wherever he hunts with ease and we know he has money to be able to move whenever and wherever he wants."

"All solid points brother, but why is he doing it?"

"He's bored?... Still trying to figure that out."

"Fuck, if that's a hazard of living in paradise… I could be gainfully employed here."

He no sooner finished speaking when he received a text, no doubt from the very same young woman he exchanged contacts with earlier in the parking lot. Shane's face lit up, I could only imagine what triggered that predatory look in him.

Shane was never going to change. I'm sure Jessie, his wife thought he was down here being all altruistic saving his best friend from himself, but if she only knew... Shane was still the same guy who got a blow job by a woman he did not marry an hour before taking the vows of matrimony eighteen months ago.

Just then, Eunice returned with our food.

"You boys best be hungry cause me slaved over these just for you."

"Looks amazing, Eunice. Thank you." The platters were huge and we dug in.

"My pleasure, darlin'..."

"Two more pints, ma'am," Shane ordered.

"The missus' order be ready by the time you're done here."

* * *

The squeaking noise woke me up. I was a little disoriented not quite sure what it was I was hearing. It didn't take long, however, to recognize the distinct sound of the headboard banging against the wall, the creaking of the bed begging for mercy while and a woman begging for more, faster, harder again… until the crescendo and what sounds like a woman screaming in tongues and a wounded animal howl.

I couldn't believe that within twenty-four hours, the asshole next door has turned the place into a tawdry fucking motel. I couldn't sleep anymore, so I got out of bed, grabbed my crutches and hobbled my way to the kitchen.

After pouring myself a glass of Rick's scotch, I abandoned one crutch in order to carry my drink outdoors with me.

I hadn't turned on the light opting to use the moonlight instead. I would have never noticed him until my eyes adjusted had it not been for the scent of the cigarette and the perfect circles he blew upon exhaling.

Great, he couldn't sleep either, so here we both were together under the cover of moonlight because neither could or wanted to go back into the house… nor did we want to be in the presence of the current company. The situation was awkward all around.

After sitting down, I downed half the shot and stole the cigarette off him and took a drag. He looked at me curiously when I did choke or cough.

"You're medication, says it shouldn't be mixed with alcohol."

"Are you going to tell Dr. Sinclair?"

He said nothing.

"I'm sorry… I was being ungracious. Thank you for the phone. I sent an email to my folks and some friends, so my contacts are slowly reappearing. I don't feel so anonymous anymore."

"You're welcome… It was either that or Marianne would be on the next plane down here. I didn't think you'd want that."

"Not at all."

"Are you okay?"

"In as much as you are, Rick. Look, I get that he's your buddy and I'm your tenant, but this is unacceptable…"

"I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting him to come back here tonight. But I will speak to him tomorrow."

"There's no need to run him off…. But, if you were to replace the door across the street, we could go back to the way things used to be… you know, before the storm."

"I'll fix the door if I have to, but only so Shane could sleep there. You keep forgetting what I told you. Plus, I promised Marianne I would look out for you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Carpenter, Chef, Chauffeur and a Cop**

* * *

_New Discoveries_

"Hey, Sis. Do you miss me?"

"OMG, Sasha. What the hell were you thinking?" I asked referring to the meme she posted on Instagram.

"What? It was just a joke," my bratty little sister answered unapologetically.

I sighed because she was so damn annoying.

"You showed his photo to mom!" I stated incredulously.

"In my defence, I was in the den and I had my earphones on so I didn't hear her come into the room. She saw it from over my shoulders because she was sleuthing, she's so damn nosy. You know how she gets."

Unfortunately, I knew our mother could be a pain. She always wants to know what's going on in our lives. She meant well, but sometimes a person needed room to breathe too.

Our father, Morgan was more chill, he needed to be, because his beloved, our mother, was high maintenance. Her nose was everywhere and her hands were in everything. I love her dearly, but I could only take her in small doses.

"Anyway about the hottie," she continued, "how the hell was I supposed to know he was in hiding… like an FBI most wanted. Are you two… you know…"

"NO!"

"Oh, that was a little quick. Did I hit a nerve or is it the lack of a certain nerve being hit the reason why you are so antsy?"

"Fuck off, Sasha."

I didn't want to talk about Rick Grimes anymore than I have to. He was already pissed at me that his face was out there in cyberspace. He was right. I violated his trust just like someone else violated mine. I was wrong and for that, I apologize. An apology was a notion my little sister had no concept of being a surprise baby and the brat of the family, she grew up with a feeling of entitlement because our mother indulged her every whim.

We were back in Antigua in yet another suite. At first, I was reluctant about the idea, but two days before we arrived here, another girl disappeared in St. Lucia. She was the second girl to go missing from the island in six months. Rick said nothing that morning. He simply left the morning papers on the table along with my breakfast and went off across the road to speak with Shane in his new whorehouse. The guy was such a sleazeball, in the week he had been on the island he was with a different woman every night, a direct scoop from Eunice, the one we thought he was with the night we were so rudely awakened by him and his flavour of the night.

_That day, the photo in the morning papers spooked me because this time the girl was not a tourist, she was local and she looked eerily familiar. At a glance, she could easily pass as my twin. Rick didn't have to say a word, I knew he was pissed. He was quieter than usual, his jaw was clenched and he frequently pinched the bridge of his nose as he paced outdoors while talking on the phone. He didn't want me knowing what they talked about but I wasn't blind nor dumb. I watched like I always did and whenever he was done, his usual calm blue eyes were ice cold and there was a rigidness to his walk. He was wound tight and ready to go off at the slightest thing. The man was a walking time bomb._

_I was rattled, so when he suggested this trip I didn't argue. Plus, my appointment was only another two days away. In that sense, it was a practical trip, but being cooped up in a hotel suite with him has not been fun, especially after the night our sexless household changed its status thanks to Shane._

_It had been a week since the unfortunate incident, and it's made sleeping more difficult for me because the man who annoyed the hell out me during the day now invaded my nights. In my dreams, however, his lack of talking works just fine for me. I like that he was a man of action and his grunting made me wetter. His chiselled features with sapphire eyes framed in a short stubble drove me crazy. The feel of his hot breath and soft pink lips caressing my skin ignited something deep inside of me. His urgent kisses caused my legs to turn to jelly. His talented tongue and hot mouth made me erupt as his calloused hands pressed my silky skin into the mattress as he feasts on my essence. There were moments when he was a tender lover and our bodies languidly moved together moaning our pleasure, and then there were the primal moments when he was just a brute and pistoned into me without mercy. The urgency of his hunger, the slapping of skin on skin punctuating my moans and his grunts as our bodies basked in both pleasure and pain eventually succumbing as one in shared bliss, then I awaken aching for my vivid dreams to become reality, so, yeah no… I most definitely didn't want to think about him at all. The man was a monk. He was immuned to me which just made it worse._

It was a different hotel, so no one knew us here, but he was on edge. I could tell from the way his jaw was set and he frequently pinched his nose whenever he was on the phone calls, which would end the moment I walked into the room. He didn't say much because he didn't have his fingers on the pulse on this one on account that he was stuck here with me. But he spent endless hours on the phone with someone, and that someone I presume was Shane.

"Chonne, are you still there?" My sister called out bringing me back to the present.

"Yeah."

"You know I'm right. As I was saying before you falsely accused me of ratting you out to mom, you should have seen the look on dad's face when Agent Walsh and Agent Ford showed up at the front door. I thought he was going to have a heart attack."

"Shane was at our house?"

"Which one is he exactly?"

"Walsh."

"Yeah, he's the bad boy who's out for a good time just not a long time. Personally, I think the giant has more stability to him."

I said a silent prayer thankful to hear that my sister saw through Shane and recognized him for what he was. However, I wasn't exactly sure Sasha should even be looking at either man given they were much older than her. After all, there were at least five years difference between Rick and me and another seven between my sister and me, so no, she most definitely should not be looking at them, but to voice, my concern was akin to giving her permission to do something about it so I said nothing.

"Sash, focus! What did they want?"

"Nothing much. Walsh wanted to know how I knew your 'Big Daddy' … erm, I meant your friend."

"Is that it?"

"Pretty much, they made me send them a copy of the original photo and that was it. It was before I knew you two were hooking up."

"Sash, we're not hooking up!" I answered totally exasperated from the conversation we were having.

"By the way, mom and dad's anniversary is ten weeks away. Are you planning on coming home or am I going to have to plan it on my own?"

"Really, Sasha?"

"I did all the leg work it's simply a matter of you sending out the invitations."

"This is your baby, Chonne. You know I don't like this stuff.

"Why are you fretting? Everything's all set for the party. I confirmed everything with caterers and the florist. All you have to do is put the stamps on the invitations and put them in the mail. Olivia said they arrived from the printer a week ago. She showed them to me earlier, everything is good to go."

"Fine," she added sounding rather exasperated. "When are you coming home?"

But before I could answer the question, there was a knock at the door. _What now_? I wondered. "Sash, I got to, but we'll catch up later. Hey, don't post anything else on Instagram, okay?"

"Yeah...yeah."

**….**

Minutes later, I joined Rick in the living room area of the suite where he was seated in the spot I vacated.

Earlier, when Sasha called, I was in the process of transferring the photos from my camera to my laptop. He was hunched over my laptop trying to manipulate something.

I cleared my throat to announce my presence. However, he continued trying to get a better view of whatever it was that caught his interest. _Who was crossing boundaries now?_ I wonder.

"Can I help you with something?" I offered.

Rick looked up as though hearing me for the first time. "Those photos at the bluff, when were they taken?"

"I don't know, maybe a week or two after I moved into your place. They're arranged by dates on the SD card. Why?"

"I think you may have stumbled onto something out there," he pointed to the screen. "Can you blow that up for me?"

I ignored the reference being that it was a digital image selected the shot and zoomed in. But I wasn't prepared for what was captured. It looked like a hand sticking out of the water. It was green from the algae and on it was a piece of tattered clothing. I tried manipulating the photo even more but that's all there was to be seen. I felt sick to my stomach.

After reviewing the other photos there was nothing else. I recalled the shot I was intrigued by the rock formation, it was like a mini Stonehenge with a bowl at its center so I took shots of the cluster. But had I noticed the added detail, I would have explored it further.

"Can you send them to me? I mean the original and the close-up version."

In a few clicks of the keys, I made a copy of the close-up and I did as was requested, but stated, "We had another tropical storm since I took those photos. Do you think it could still be there? "

"I don't know, but it's our first big lead in eighteen months," he added as he quickly forwards them to Shane and members of the task force.

"Michonne?"

The way he said my name with such concern sent shivers down my spine.

"Look I know you don't like this…" he gesticulates with his hands to encompass our surroundings, "being cooped up here, but it's for the best. I promised to keep you safe and I intend to keep that promise. Matter of fact, after your appointment, I was thinking it's probably best if you took a direct flight home. I know your folks will be happy to see you after four months away. But, if you stay, it'll be more of this."

He was being earnest. The concern in his eyes and voice caught me off guard. I said nothing immediately because I was still trying to process the photo of the local girl who could pass for me. He didn't say it, but I had not crossed paths with that many people. I had not yet been to St. Lucia, so The Hunter was most definitely close to my home away from home and it scared the hell out of me. The fact that someone else had been watching me was unnerving. I was on the dipshit's radar, so if I run in my compromised state, they would more than likely follow me home; a place where he was not yet on anyone's radar, so I would be there on my own.

To be honest, despite whatever personal crap that was going on or not going on between us, I felt the safest right where I was… at his side.

"I won't run. He wants me to run… to be away from here where he feels the dragnet is tightening. If I run I'd make it easier for him."

"So that means you're going to take this seriously. You'll do whatever I say. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

**….**

"What the fuck? There's something out there wedged between the rocks. The first responders are on the way. I'll call you when we know more." Shane reported and I breathe once more. Finally, we were catching a break.

"Thanks, Shane. Don't forget to talk to Zeke then stand down. He'll get you what you need now. You're still an active agent, so don't be a fuckin cowboy." I cautioned and end the call.

"Was the body still there?" Michonne asked as I joined her on the terrace.

"Yeah. Shane said the first responders were on their way there. They'll do their best but they don't have much daylight left. If they can't retrieve it before night falls, their next opportunity is at low tide tomorrow, so the area will be under surveillance."

"I feel like shit… had I transferred those photos sooner, maybe that poor girl wouldn't be missing now."

"You made this happen, Michonne. Before this we had nothing… those women just vanished into thin air. At least this one's folks will have closure."

She sat on the terrace with her arms folded around her body sliding her hands up and down as if trying to warm herself even though it was over eighty-five degrees outside.

I couldn't allow Michonne to blame herself because it served no purpose at all. Plus, without that one photo, we would still be chasing our own tails. I walked over to where she sat and offered my hand, she took it and I pulled her up and held her to me. I knew she felt vulnerable, but the last thing I wanted was for her to let that piece of shit get into her head. I haven't shared my theory with her as yet, but she was trained as a lawyer and she was starting to put the pieces together without any conjecture from me.

_I was scared too, up until now, I've been focused on one person the whole time, that was long before Michonne showed up. But what if I'm wrong?_

"You can't let him get into your head, Michonne. If you do, he wins."

"I won't let him."


	6. Chapter 6

**Carpenter, Chef, Chauffeur and a Cop**

* * *

**AN:** It has been a while since I revisited this story. I lost my motivation to continue it after receiving some vile comments, but I do believe in finishing what I start. That said, this update has been a challenge. I hope that my faithful supporters are still with me. I trust you are all safe. In these trying times, it's not enough to sit on the sidelines, if you see something wrong say something because in unity change happens, silence simply allows the status quo to continue.

* * *

Awakening, Part I

By noon the next day, my phone buzzed, the alert stated female remains had been recovered from the Caribbean Sea in the vicinity of Rendezvous Beach. I quickly scanned the article to learn there was also speculation as to whether the remains might be that of the young woman who went missing months earlier.

Rick's phone buzzed on the table before us. He retrieved it and stole away from the balcony for privacy. I was getting accustomed to it, if we were indoors he'd go outdoors and vice versa.

"What's going on?" I asked once he returned.

"They were successful in removing the body but it's too badly decomposed for identification purposes." There was a brief pause and he continued,—"They'll need to do DNA testing."

"What are you not telling me?" I countered.

"Nothing," he replied, staring directly at me, but I knew he was lying to me because I felt it.

**...**

It felt like shit having to lie to Michonne, but I justified my actions by telling myself the more she knew would put her in harm's way. Why? Because she already blamed herself for the latest victim's abduction and I couldn't convince her otherwise.

An abduction was inevitable, but what we didn't account for was what went unsaid between us. The fact the woman bore a striking resemblance to her, it was an indisputable fact, which couldn't be spun. It scared her knowing the sick bastard had his eyes set on her. But what I couldn't tell her was that the recovered body was bound in a tarp. The unusual thing about it was that a cursory view revealed the woman was held in captivity long enough for her to be impregnated, then the sick bastard cut the womb from her body and dumped her over a cliff.

I had to protect Michonne. I couldn't share such gruesome shit with her. She needed to be ready for anythang not overthinking the situation and allowing him to get inside her head which could seriously impair her fight or flight senses if the monster got close enough to her.

Michonne's safety was important to me. I promised to keep her safe and I intended to keep it. I made myself a promise too, and I'm gonna get the fucker responsible if that was the last thing I do.

Shortly after the news broke of the latest abductee, I arranged for us to leave the island a few days ahead of her scheduled appointment. She had not argued, which was a good thang; for once, it felt like we were on the same page.

The entire situation took its toll on Michonne, though she tried hard not to show it, I saw the way she reacted after we discovered a potential corpse in her photograph. In a split second, her tough exterior wavered. There was a chink in her armour because it was personal. She was no longer the smartass from before. She was vulnerable, so I extended my hand to her, she took it and I held her close.

**...**

I too was also on alert, especially after the good doctor called to remind her of her upcoming appointment and once again volunteered his services to escort her. Naturally, I never delivered the message. The fact Michonne now had a new phone, he wasn't able to communicate with her either. There was a method to my madness. After purchasing the new phones, I reached out to Eugene and had him walk me through the process on how to track her cell phone. He assured me the tracking would be undetectable. And while we were out of town, I asked Shane to oversee the installation of the security system at my place. I also arranged for Eunice to keep an eye out for her whenever I'm not around during the days, but if ever, I had to disappear overnight Shane had to sleep over but with no guests.

In the meantime, I figured the restaurant was a perfect hangout, for one, it got her out of the house even if in a limited capacity. Two, Michonne loved food, and three, what gave me peace of mind was the fact there was always off duty officers in the place; and the ones on duty popped in from time to time for takeaways. Plus, with Eunice's familial connections it was a fairly safe bet no perp would attempt to lure her from there.

Eunice was on board, the only problem was getting Michonne on board with the plan. Sure she said she'd do as I say, but I knew her. She was too damn stubborn for her own good. She was extremely independent and didn't like feeling helpless. She loved to feel untethered to anyplace, person or thing. She was running from someone or something but now found herself cornered. Her actions were now unpredictable. So, I had to do thangs my way.

**...**

Three days later, we sat in the restaurant and Eunice began fussing over me from the moment she laid eyes on me. It surprised me because, despite her cool detached exterior, she had maternal instincts. She seemed truly concerned and I could tell from the smirk on his face that Rick seemed to be enjoying the fact that her attentiveness was annoying the hell out of me.

"Chile, me hope dis dun teach you arse a lessen not be climbin' on no damn hillside. You wanna be takin' pictures, me take you out meself, of course you'll have to pitch in 'round here too." She lectures as she serves our drinks.

"Thanks. Maybe I'll take you up on that." I replied to placate her so that she'd leave me alone.

'You do dat," she replied, "and holla if you need anything."

Eunice was about to walk away when it happened.

Rick's phone buzzed, he looked at it then picked up the device. "I'm sorry. I have to take this, you don't mind, do you?"He asked, as he left the table and gave Eunice a look.

It was extremely subtle but I caught the exchange between them. Eunice replied with a slight nod of the head.

_That bastard_, I thought—all of Eunice's fussing was because the two had had some kind of agreement between them. Eunice was my damn babysitter so he could run off and play detective. _Why was I surprised?_ I thought we were supposed to be honest with one another. It was another classic Rick Grimes move. Our partnership was destined to forever be a one-sided relationship, one where I'm expected to comply and where he does whatever the hell he wants. But for the pain and my awkward bionic leg brace, which went from my thigh to my ankle and locked at a forty-five-degree angle, I would have gone after him. How dare he shut me out of a story I broke and one that concerns me?

The little I knew of him, I knew he trusted few people. Eunice, however, fell into that selected group which irked me a lot. Although I didn't quite understand the dynamics between the two of them, I knew if he trusted her, I should too, if only for the time being.

Eunice was no longer being catty because my current situation came with a pass, so I intended to capitalize on it. She being the police chief's daughter, meant she knew stuff; stuff Rick was reluctant to share with me and now that I know she was meant to occupy my time why not exploit her hospitality.

**...**

Her pain and the brace on her leg slowed Michonne down a little but I knew it wouldn't last long, so time was of the essence.

"Yeah?"I replied after stepping away from the table.

"There's a conference call with Quantico in thirty minutes," Shane announced excitedly.

I could tell from the excitement in Shane's voice that something huge was about to happen. "On my way."

I dialled Ford, "Hey, man."

"Who the fuck is this?" He replied in a brusque manner.

"Ford, it's Grimes."

"What the fuck is it bout that island, you disappear and suddenly you forget your past? Walsh's been gone damn near two weeks without so much as a text. Tell me, it's the pussy isn't it? The fucker must be in paradise."

I laughed because where Shane was concerned, Abe was spot on, me on the other hand, not so much. "I'm afraid nothing quite so interesting for me."

"What the hell's going on down there? There's a shit load of whispers going on."

"That's what I'd like to know. What are you hearing?"

"From what I hear, you've managed to ring bells that can't be unrung."

"Oh? Interesting to know. Look, I'm heading to a meeting—if you hear anything else, be sure to let me know."

"Yeah, yeah."He replied, ending the call.

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